Bunker
by abovetheserpentine
Summary: AU. The conflict between humans and mutants has reached its breaking point, and now Rogue is alone. As she tries to cope with her newfound independence, she must decide whether who she meets along the way is friend, or foe.
1. Lost And Found

**Summary:** AU. The conflict between humans and mutants has reached its breaking point, and now Rogue is alone. As she tries to cope with her newfound independence, she must decide whether who she meets along the way is friend, or foe.

**Radiohead – Idioteque  
**_Who's in a bunker, who's in a bunker?  
I've seen too much;  
I haven't seen enough,  
You haven't seen enough._

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE – Lost And Found**

I couldn't sleep.

It wasn't an irregular occurrence, that's for sure. Ever since last September I'd been having sleepless nights, and it wasn't getting better despite the warmer weather that was now slowly coming in. I couldn't stand the cold. In fact, I much preferred the sweltering heat of summer, sweat dripping down my back and sticking my hair to my forehead. Sure, I wasn't the most attractive girl – no, _woman_, I had to keep reminding myself – during that particular season, but I'd never cared before and I don't think I'd ever care.

I readjusted my duffle bag beneath my head, shifting it so that my temple wasn't sitting on a particularly hard button of some random piece of clothing I'd shoved in there. I couldn't help but feel a pang of pity for myself. It had been roughly seven months since I could last remember seeing my closet of clothes back at the school. It seemed like decades ago now, and I thought about all of the nice dresses and fashionable scarves I'd abandoned, simply because they were impractical.

Turning over, I was still uncomfortable and nearly resigned myself to the fact that I was going to go yet another night without any sleep. The fire behind me crackled softly as its embers slowly died out, and I sighed in exasperation. Yep. Definitely no sleep.

I sat up, too frustrated to even attempt to calm myself down. I hated this. There was a part of me that longed for this freedom, longed for this independence, but not like this. Never like this. I'd seen people killed, _I'd_ killed. And for what? For me to lay here and reminisce about the clothes I missed? The people I cared about were still out there, but at the time I'd been so scared, so alone that all I'd thought was '_run'_. So that's what I'd done, and look at me now, sitting on the cold, hard ground of Pennsylvania – freezing, hungry, and alone.

Getting up, I kicked dirt into the fire angrily, not caring about dirtying my already disgustingly gritty runners. Grabbing my duffle and shoving it onto my shoulder, I covered up all evidence of my presence to cover my tracks. Both mutants and humans were after me, and it wouldn't bode well to be seen by either. Well, of course, if they didn't know my face, that'd be fine. But I couldn't take any chances.

I wasn't a risk taker – my very nature went against it, actually. It was more annoying that anything, as to survive I'd had to take risks every now and then. I'd had to gamble with my own life just to see another day. I was surprised at myself that I'd even made it this far. If someone had told me a year ago that I'd be where I was now, I wouldn't have laughed at them – I just wouldn't have listened to them. Anyone who would have said such a thing wouldn't have known me and probably wasn't worth my time to work myself up over.

I finished up at the makeshift campsite, and walked through the trees which surrounded me. I'd ended up in some sort of forest, or national park, and I hadn't had the guts to come out of it over the past week. So I'd spent my time wallowing away amongst the tall, wide trees and becoming one with nature.

But I hated the outdoors, so it'd been a pointless thing to do in the first place.

Sighing, I continued on. Tonight, I'd have to leave. Staying too long in one place was dangerous. In fact, I'd heard stories about mutants who'd shacked up somewhere in the wilderness and were found only months later. Finding a home was not an option, and so I'd resorted to my old hitchhiking, lone ranger ways.

To be honest with myself, I wasn't that much of a socialiser. Yeah, I liked friends, but was there anyone who didn't? Maybe it was unnatural for me to only want a few friends, maybe even just one. But that was just me. I couldn't be friends with over ten people at a time – I consider it entirely impossible. Improbable. Unimaginable!

Then there was the skin issue. Who would want to be friends with someone like me? And did I want to be friends with so many people if I could kill them on contact? I couldn't answer that truthfully. No – because I don't want to hurt anyone. Yes – because I'm a selfish bitch and I just can't help it.

Eugh, what was the use? I was wasting my time here, thinking about something so… sickening… as friendship. I hadn't had it in the past, and I definitely wasn't going to get it in the future.

I heard cars nearby and slowed my feet. The trees were rustling in the wind, and it was hard to tell whether I was too close to a main road. Main road equals bad. Main road equals Marie is gonna get kidnapped and experimented on and most likely die because she was on a main road. I peeked around the trunk I was standing behind, careful to balance my weight evenly for fear of the slightest sound.

I am rather proud of myself for my stealth skills these days. At first, I'd been a terror – rampaging about the place, clumsily giving out my name at every turn and almost falling straight into a mutant-catching trap within the first month. After that, I like to think I'd improved exponentially. I made no sound, or so it seemed, and I covered all my tracks. I left fake trails and I even went so far as to acquire a fake driver's license despite the fact that I'd never learned. If Jean could see me now, she'd know I was living up to my namesake.

I scowled internally at the thought of the Doctor. She wasn't that bad, really. I was just insanely cold-hearted and held a massive grudge against her after she'd said the truth a little too bluntly one day.

"_Rogue, you can't avoid it forever-"_

"_I'm not."_

Okay, maybe I'd snapped at her, but I'd seen the way things were going and she hadn't taken the hint to can it.

"_Controlling your power is very important – I don't think you realise the extent of danger you're putting your classmates in every day, Rogue!"_

"_Oh, thanks for reminding me I'm a walking death trap. If you hadn't noticed, I'm trying to minimalise that danger!"_

If she couldn't see the layers of clothing I'd piled onto myself, she really needed to get her eyes checked.

"_It's not enough."_

"_It is for me."_

"_Stop being so selfish!"_

I remember the look on her face, in reaction to the look on my own. It'd been a mix of apologetic and stern. If that was even possible.

"_Marie-"_

"_Don't."_ I had said. _"Don't you dare use that name. I'm not Marie to you, or to anyone!"_

Yeah, well. I think it's obvious that hadn't gone down well at all. Suffice to say I'd avoided her until September and now I hadn't seen her since. Good riddance, I say.

Okay, that's a bit harsh. But I'd warned you I held grudges.

Shaking my head to rid of thoughts I'd tried to forget long ago, I took in my surroundings once more.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled, and I knew right then and there that I was being watched.

Ah, shit.

Serves me right for getting lost in my musings, I suppose, but couldn't I catch a break for a week, maybe even two? It'd been three days since my last encounter with anyone, and I'd sufficiently kicked their ass and left them lying there. It'd been some mutant kid. Maybe fifteen or sixteen. Thought he could take me on because I was a girl. I could see it written clearly on his face. He'd recognised my own and decided a few injuries were worth the cash reward for bringing my butt into one of those mutant camps.

Obviously he hadn't even thought about my own mutation because he'd been on me one second and out cold the next. Sometimes I liked my mutation, even enjoyed it. But only when it made me seem as badass as that. Of course, I was anything but, as was evident by my current stalker and insufficient stealth skills.

I was here, though, right for the taking. My back was to the forest and I was looking out on a rather deserted main road. Given it was about four o'clock in the morning, I wasn't too disturbed by the fact – but it made me wonder exactly why this mutant, and there was no doubt that it was one, was waiting so long to pounce.

I couldn't move, even if I wanted to. Maybe he, or she, was waiting for me to walk away, turn around, _anything_. I should just wait here, so still I was struggling for breath, and see if they did anything. Let them come to me, and then I could whip out the bare hand and knock them out in a heartbeat.

I took off my gloves discreetly.

Well obviously not discreet enough because the next thing I know is that I'm on the ground ten feet away from where I was previously standing.

Ah, shit. Ah, crap.

"I've seen what you can do," a gruff voice all but growled in my direction, and it took a lot of my courage to stop myself from flinching back at the harsh tone, "and there's no way I'm letting you touch me, you hear?"

I liked this guy. Seemed pretty straight forward – didn't beat around the bush, which was always pleasant considering most others out to get her liked to rant about their grand plans to solve the conflict, most of which involved her getting captured, tortured or killed in some way.

This guy, though… this guy didn't seem to even be on the verge of spitting out his plans for world domination or world peace (a completely hopeless concept, let me tell you). In fact, he seemed more pissed off than scheming, and it scared me a little more.

Okay, I am shit scared, but I can't admit that to myself when he's staring at me like he wants to eat me. And not in a good way.

It was as he stood there, too still to not be dangerous, that I _actually_ noticed him for the first time. He seemed like a nondescript sort of character upon first glance, but as I looked more closely I realised I was incredibly wrong.

He was big, and on a whole other planet in regards to buffness. I couldn't stop looking at them, his muscles, everywhere; bulging with pure strength in a way that made me wriggle back a bit on the ground in amazement. His eyes flicked to my movement, and I noticed their intensity, the dark, dark brown almost black shade that decided at that very moment to be my undoing. I followed the eyes down his straight, perfectly proportioned nose, followed a path to his thin lips surrounded by a week's worth of stubble. That led to his jawline, so defined that I wanted to touch it just to believe it. His sculpted throat led down to a muscular upper body, clothed only in a thin, dirtied white shirt that made him look surreal in the moonlight.

What was I doing? I was checking this guy out and he was about to kill me. Oh, Xavier, have mercy on my soul because it is going straight to hell, completely and utterly aroused.

I looked up at him from under my eyelashes, too afraid to say anything. He was closer now, and his height was emphasised by my position on the flat earth. I had a weakness for tall men.

"Get up."

I scrambled to my feet, not even bothering to be graceful because I know it's a lost cause. I've never been graceful in my life.

There was silence as he looked at me and I looked at anywhere but him. I could feel his gaze move across my face, lingering on my hair and its one white streak that I hated and would hate for a very long time to come. Damn Magneto. I fidgeted and couldn't help myself. Damn mouth.

"What do you want?" I blurted, and I cringed obviously at the way that came out. God, could I sound any _more_ like a bratty teenager? I hate myself.

"You've got some real nerve, kid," he started, and stepped forward as if advancing on his prey, as if he was about to cut me open and take my insides for his dinner. My hands were shaking, and I tried to stop them, clenching them desperately in an attempt to calm myself.

Not working, not working.

_Snikt._

Oh my God. Oh Lord. Dear holy mother-

I ran. The duffle was thumping against my back, and I pushed stray branches and twigs out of my face, panting with exhaustion already despite only having run for a minute at the most. I zig-zagged, criss-crossed and did almost any irregular pattern of running I could think of to lose him. I double-backed, determined to shake him off my trail and continue on with my four in the morning hike – but alas, my clumsiness failed me once more.

A tree root is what ruined my glorious plans for escape. I had everything worked out, and although he wasn't tiring, he seemed to be falling back – I was coming into my element and then a flipping _tree root_ had to go and stuff things up.

I was on my back in three seconds flat and he was upon me, on the ground, hovering, his blades at my throat and ready to puncture.

I bit my lip, whimpering pitilessly in fear.

I hate myself.

The blades moved closer to my neck and I felt one of them prick sharply. My face was flushed and I was panting in a way that almost made me blush. Cold sweat had already formed around my hairline, and I felt his body heat on my clothes like I'd just put a freshly ironed shirt on.

"Who do you work for?" he roared right in my face, and I wanted to cry.

I felt like I was in one of those cheesy spy movies, and then almost felt like laughing. I restrained myself out of pure survival instinct.

"I don't know what-" I mumbled, looking at him helplessly and searching his face for some ounce of compassion – lust, even, if that's what it took to get the hell out of here.

"Don't play games with me, _mutant_." He spat the last word like a curse, and I couldn't help myself.

"Hey! It's not like I'm the only one here." I exclaimed, and my eyes widened with the realisation that I was very much screwed.

I'm sorry, Jean, for all those things I said to you-

"Consider yourself lucky, kid." He growled, and quickly stood up.

I was dumbfounded. Uhm… what the hell?

"I'm so confused." I said. And dear God, I must have been to say that out loud. I am never going to forgive myself.

"We've got to get a move on." He said, and I could see his outline in the moonlight. He seemed to be sniffing the air, and one lone thought popped into my head.

_What_ exactly is this man?

I don't think I want to know.

Gulping, trying to swallow both my nerves and my pride, I stood. Brushing off the dirt from my coat absentmindedly, I grabbed my bag, which had fallen a few feet away in the chase, and flung it around my shoulder once more.

"I'm sorry, but 'we'?" He looked at me blankly. "Are you suggesting that I'm going to travel… with you?"

He just ignored me and turned, commanding me to follow without actually saying anything. I hesitated. To go with this man, or to not go with this man? That was the million dollar question right there, because so help me God there were so many answers. It was no longer down to a single yes or no, here. Right now, it was survive or don't survive and something was telling me that maybe hanging with… with…

"What's your name?"

He spoke quietly over his shoulder, a great contrast to the roar previously.

"Logan."

Maybe hanging with Logan was a good idea. He was huge, and had some flipping scary claws that could come in handy in either attack or defence. He seemed to understand where I stood on at least a couple of things (mutants, death, and taste in men, just to name a few). We could stick together, be a team.

Oh, I really liked that idea.

The inner X-Man in me delighted in it, actually.

I'd never got to be on the team. But it had been something everyone at the school had looked up to, something everyone wanted to become. It had seemed then that I was well on my way there. I felt sorrow at the loss of the life I once had, but pushed it out of my mind aggressively. I didn't want to feel that. Not now.

My humour dampened, I followed Logan silently. He was just walking, uncaringly, through to the main road. I wanted to say something, but stopped myself as he halted just after the tree line I'd run from not fifteen minutes ago. I came up beside him, and we stood there for a few minutes. This could work, definitely. He was quiet, I was quiet. He was cautious, I was cautious. It was looking good.

"What's your name?" he asked gruffly, and I wondered how he had acquired the ability to speak with such presence, such command.

"Marie."

It was half an hour later, in the passenger side of his truck with my seatbelt fastened and my hands warming in front of the heater that I realised he was the first person I'd given my real name to willingly.

And I certainly couldn't decide whether that was a good thing or not.

* * *

I seriously need help because I really have no idea what I'm doing. So please give me feedback.

P


	2. Uncontrollable

I'm rather shocked by the positive reception to this, but I am very grateful for it. And your advice has been most welcome! Thank you.

**WARNING:** This chapter has strong language. Just letting you know.

**30 Seconds To Mars – Stranger In A Strange Land  
**_Angel or demon,  
It came from my soul.  
I'm guilty of treason;  
I've abandoned control. _

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO – Uncontrollable**

As a child, I had always maintained control. It was an oddity that even my God-fearing parents hadn't been able to explain away with religion, something that as a young girl I hadn't thought made me any different. I was wrong, on so many levels. The way in which I'd handled things, the way in which I'd reacted… it wasn't normal. I suppose I should've thought of it sooner, linked it to my mutation with some sort of epiphany that explained everything I'd ever wondered since that day roughly two years ago.

But I hadn't made the connection until now.

I had always been a quiet kid, too busy with my own imaginings to be particularly chatty. I liked to be alone and play with my own toys. Maybe it was the result of being an only child, but I had something other only children didn't. My parents, always trying to conform to everything and anything and desperately trying to achieve normality with their one point eight children, had shunned the issue. Ignored it, because everyone knows that makes it go away.

My tantrums as a child were little to none. And that's what had been scary, especially for my parents. I was not the hassle they had expected. Instead, I was a quiet, no-fuss sort of girl, and I'd been that way for a long time. I hadn't had a favourite colour as a kid, and I hadn't liked a snotty little boy, either (to which my parents had greatly feared for a period of a week that I might have been a lesbian, but quickly dismissed the idea when their neighbour had reassured them it was a 'phase'… because not liking disgusting six year old boys was 'just a phase').

I had sat quietly when they'd yelled at me, stared blankly when they thought I should cry, and acquiesced silently when they'd ordered me to go to my room. Every time I did such things they looked at me strangely – like having a child who did everything they asked was a curse, not a blessing. As I grew older, I hadn't understood it. By the time I was sixteen, I was still following my parents blindly, doing everything they wanted just to gain their approval. I was under control of everything – my emotions, my relationships, my whole God damn life – which was then under the control of my parents.

Then Cody happened and the look on my mother's face is the only thing I can really remember about the experience anymore. The sudden understanding that had appeared at the sight of my own horrified face and Cody's seizing body; it was like everything she'd ever asked God about her child had been answered. The control I had administered over every aspect of me for so long had been taken from me in that very moment.

I'd left, bitter, the next morning.

My skin was something I couldn't control. I didn't think it was possible and I didn't want to try. After my travels alone, I'd been desperate to do anything to commandeer control over something. Everything wasn't going to plan, and I had a strange sense of paranoia the more I was alone. This time, _I_ was being controlled by my life, and I didn't like it one bit.

Xavier came along then – or, at least, his team did. At first I'd refused, totally against anything that would control me further; the understanding of my mutation, and the return to school life. I couldn't face it then, and so I'd waited until I could wait no longer. Frostbitten, starving and utterly alone one stormy night the next January, I'd asked for them just as they'd told me to. An hour later, I'd been picked up, cared for, fed and shown my way around what was to be my new home.

Despite my urges to control everything about my life, I'd let myself be pulled along for a month or two. I'd steadfastly ignored the attempts to ask my permission to study my mutation, and I'd definitely ignored every single one of my classmates. I was just floating, somewhere in between controlling and being controlled.

After I'd had enough of that, I'd attempted to regain the illusion of control over my life I'd previously maintained. School had been tough, but I'd studied almost every day for lack of anything else to do, and I'd been getting a Grade A average as a result, something which I had never seemed to be able to achieve back in Mississippi. Due to the hectic studying, I hadn't allowed time to make friends which hadn't bothered me at all. I ate by myself in the cafeteria, and I spent most of my free time in the room I shared with two of my female peers. They didn't bother me, and I didn't bother them – something they'd learnt in the first week of my stay at Xavier's.

But my skin… for some reason that was something I didn't want to control. Had you asked me at the time I don't think I would have been able to provide you with an answer as to why, just that I didn't. I still don't… not really. My skin is unpredictable. It's something that if I were to understand it, I might not like what I find. And who wants that? To find out that some part of them, some mutation that others may experience, is different once more? That once again, _'Marie'_ is not quite right?

I recoiled at the idea. How could I risk that? It is easier for me to pretend like I can't do anything. By not trying to control my mutation, it means that it can't control me – something which I would abhor. And if it controlled me, I don't know what I'd do. Would it change me, make me evil? Because my 'gift' is so inherently evil it is almost unbelievable.

If I were to let it in, would that be the end of me?

I shuddered when I thought of that lack of control.

Control is what I lived for, it's what I live for, and it's what I'll continue to live for until my dying day. That's just me. Marie. I can't help it.

Which is precisely why my mutation is still uncontrollable – why I still continue to put those around me in danger.

And why I'm currently lying on the floor in the room of a dodgy motel.

I sighed, turning over restlessly for what must have been the hundredth time. I couldn't sleep. Again.

"Will you quit it, kid?"

The voice startled me, and I sat up abruptly, so abruptly that my head started to spin. I looked to the bed on my right, squinting in the darkness to see the outline of a figure on its stomach, face buried into the pillow that was more yellow than white. It took me a second to register who it was and why they were calling me kid, but as soon as I took in the wild hair, scraggly sideburns and bulging biceps, I eased my tense muscles.

"I'm sorry," I started, apologetic and embarrassed, "I can't sleep."

"Well that's pretty obvious." His voice made me cringe. Every single time he spoke to me, I felt as if he thought he was talking to a three year old. The matter-of-fact tone and the sarcasm he used constantly made me incredibly embarrassed and for once, made me want to shut up. Because all I seemed to want to do around Logan was talk, talk and talk. I don't know what it was – maybe it was his intimidating muscle, or his wild persona. Either way, I was hell scared of him and he wasn't making it any easier.

Sighing, he spoke as if it were a painful concept to him.

"Get in."

And with that one sentence, I was reduced to a blushing school girl. What did he think he was playing at? There was no way I was getting into bed with him, innocent or not. I was eighteen, and he… well, he was certainly _not_. In fact, I was guessing he was early to mid thirties, and that he should definitely not be interested in a teenager, albeit a legal one–

"Look, you're not going to be getting any there." He paused, as if to let it sink in. I stared at him in horror. "You sleep here, I'll switch with you."

"Oh." I stated, and blushed again at the stupidity of my answer. Honestly, he was just trying to be nice and I was reacting in a way that made me seem like some perverted, virginal, eighteen year old girl with a crush. Granted, the fact that I was eighteen and completely inexperienced was true (Hmm, I wonder why?), but the other stuff was a lie and I felt silly trying to justify why I had hesitated on his offer, and instead kept silent as I gathered my things and moved to the side of the bed. He was shaking his head, and I thought I saw a ghost of a smile on his face as he got up from the bed, crawling across it and passing by me – without any sort of cringe, surprisingly – to land heavily on the makeshift mattress I had been lying on.

My hands were shaking as I pulled the sheet he had kicked off when he'd inhabited the bed, up to my armpits. I stared at the ceiling, and felt the sting of unshed tears in my eyes, blinking as if to simply will them away. I knew it wasn't that easy, and sniffled tiredly.

Why the hell am I crying? I really do hate myself.

"Kid…" he hesitated, and I saw that he was sitting up again, sheet at his waist.

"No, really, it's nothing. Just… just go to sleep, Logan." My voice wobbled and I flinched at the way I had no control over this situation.

At that thought, I sobered up and stopped my pathetic sniffling. Crying would do nothing. Life sucked, yeah, but at the moment there was nothing I could do about it, so I may as well suck it up and take it like the strong woman I was.

Yeah.

I turned over, staring at the green numbers of the digital clock glowing in the dark light of the small room, and watched as they neared more and more to the time of dawn. Logan snored behind me.

* * *

The sight of my miserable face in the morning seemed to worry the receptionist at this particular motel somewhere around Canton, Pennsylvania. Maybe it was the fact that I was dirty from the 'attack' the night before, as I liked to call it; as well as greasy-haired, slightly bruised and looking like I'd slept in my clothes overnight, which I had. Overall, I looked like some sort of hostage – and when she took sight of Logan, I guessed that's what she concluded. After all, he looked roughly double my age, as strong as a body builder, and extremely sour. In fact, I was surprised she hadn't called the cops overnight – after all, Logan had requested a room with one bed to share. He'd told me it'd been to keep up appearances or something or other, but if anyone believed we were together in any sense of the word then I think they really needed to reevaluate what they thought a relationship entailed. Because Logan and I certainly _weren't_ in one, or even looked like we were.

She fumbled with the keys when he dropped them in her hand, and I tried to stifle my smile at the way she kept glancing between the both of us like we were going to suddenly pull out a gun and use it. Of all the things to pull out, a gun was not one of them. In fact, it was most likely going to be some insane claws.

I looked to Logan's knuckles – perfectly normal-looking things, and that's what stunned me the most. He was a normal guy it seemed, just incredibly well-looked after. So to expect that he was going to release those things and rip me in two was entirely unrealistic.

Then again, I suppose, to expect that I was going to take off my gloves, shake your hand, and you'd be in a coma was entirely unrealistic, as well. It'd certainly happen, though, you can have no doubt about that.

He grabbed me by the cloth-covered elbow, dragging me along and just serving to make the receptionist more suspicious of us. I yanked my elbow out of his grip and he glared at me silently. I couldn't understand him. Really, I just couldn't. One minute he was nice enough, accommodating enough – and then he was one of the most aggressive people I'd ever met, bossy and too pushy and ultimately one sour grape.

I grumbled to myself in annoyance, and he merely glanced at me before climbing into his truck. It was more like a ute, I suppose, but it served its purpose. I climbed in the other side quickly, afraid that he might drive on without me. It wouldn't surprise me, to be honest. Just as I'd thrown my duffle at my feet, he accelerated away and I was left clutching the underside of my seat to maintain control over my person. I hastily clicked my seatbelt into place and waited for him to say something. I never started conversation with him. The one time I'd tried, he'd just glared at me as if I was committing some sort of treason and I'd silenced immediately. Did Logan even realise the effect he had on me? I honestly couldn't go two minutes without either embarrassing myself, taking his words the wrong way, or asking a question. It was starting to annoy _me_, not even taking into consideration how much it was annoying him.

"Where are we going?" I blurted, and my eyes widened with the realization that he hadn't yet said anything. Was I put on this earth solely to embarrass myself? Is that my one purpose? It sure seemed like it, because it was becoming inevitable these days. What happened to the times I kicked ass, twenty-four seven? I miss those days.

For once, it seemed, Logan wasn't perturbed by my incessant questions. In fact, he seemed to have accepted it and I was thankful for that one small favour on his part. Maybe he was finally realizing that I couldn't keep my opinions in. Oh dear, one day I really hope he gets to see me around the Professor – because then he'd see that _he's_ the one that's at fault with this because this is not me at all. But then I started to imagine Xavier and Logan meeting and couldn't wipe the grin off my face. God, what an interesting conversation that would be.

"_Hey, bub, get the fuck out of my mind."_

I laughed out loud in one full cackle but quickly stopped myself, pretending that any laugh of any sort was a figment of Logan's imagination. Of course, a logical guy such as he would never believe such a thing, and I was right – he was looking at me strangely while I hurriedly tried to conceal my blush with a curtain of brown hair tinged with white.

"Look, kid, you've gotta realise that I go things alone," he paused, and glanced at me slightly from his gaze ahead of him on the road, "and when I was alone, I didn't know where I was going. I just drove and went places and did some fightin'."

I opened my mouth to respond to that with some witty comment, maybe something related to his muscles, but he stopped me with a look and continued on.

"So where we're going isn't the issue at the moment. The issue is you." He leveled his gaze ahead of him again, and I didn't know how to respond to this. Me? What could he possibly need to know about me? I was just Marie, Rogue, whatever you wanted to call me. I was of no importance in any way to someone like Logan, so what–

Oh no. No, no, no, no, no!

"Stop the car." I mumbled, trying to open the door even though we were speeding down a highway. The door was locked.

"What?" Logan asked, frowning.

"STOP THE CAR!" I screamed, and it did the trick. Logan slammed down on the breaks in shock, and I saw him holding his right ear in pain. We came to a halt and I was panting in pain at the newly forming bruise across my chest. I unbuckled my seatbelt hurriedly and stuffed my stray belongings back into my duffle. I left the food wrappings on the dashboard for him to deal with – he may as well keep that shit because that's what I thought of him at the moment. I had to get away, I had to leave this car and get as far away from Logan as possible. He was staring at me weirdly, and I didn't trust him, I couldn't trust him. I can't believe I'd ever trusted him.

I grasped the door handle and pulled sharply.

"Open the door." I ordered, seething. I could see his glare in my peripheral vision and knew it wasn't going to be that easy. Damn it, why did I have to meet someone just as stubborn as me?

"No."

"God damn it, Logan, open the fucking door!" I exclaimed, staring at him wildly and I could only imagine what he was seeing right now; red face, bird nest hair and wide eyes right in front of him.

I heard the click of the lock and glanced at him in surprise before yanking on the handle and flinching against the bitter cold that ran through my hair, freezing my scalp and sending a chill down to my bones. Ignoring this, I stepped out, the puddle beneath my feet splashing as I did. I'd forgotten it'd rained last night. I slammed the car door behind me, and the rusty red of it caught my eye briefly, making them flicker to the driver's window quickly before looking ahead of me at the vast road, coated with a layer of grey reflection that seemed foreboding rather than possibly magical.

Shaking off the feeling, I purposefully strode forward, keeping to the side of the road. My feet were already sopping, and I'd only walked five metres. I heard the slam of a car door behind me and sped up my pace. I shoved my hands into the pockets of my thick coat to avoid the icy grip I felt would suit my mutation all too well. Smiling wryly to myself, I was slightly stunned when a rough hand gripped me on my upper arm and spun me around like a ragdoll.

"What do you think you're doing?" he yelled above a sudden gust of wind, "You're going to fucking _freeze!_"

"I don't care!" I yelled back, terrified and at an absolute loss of what to do. He must have been ten times my weight, and a hell of a lot more used to fighting, especially in this weather. If he were to start one… well, I didn't have much hope. "I can't stay with you when I can't trust you!"

"What in fuck's name are you talking about?"

I reeled at his harsh use of language, but also wanted to laugh at what this conversation would seem like to an outsider. A lover's tiff, most likely.

"I'm talking about you taking me somewhere, the hell if I know, and the fact that it seems more like you're taking me _to someone_. I'm not falling for this again, so you're wasting your time, _mutant!_" I spat.

I had never used the word as an insult before, and the way it fell from my lips felt wholly sacred. He started at me wordlessly and like he wanted to slice my head off. I couldn't blame him, I'd felt the same way the other day. But things were different now – I had the power to do what he didn't expect, because he had no flipping idea as to what my mutation did, and I had planned on keeping it that way until we left each other's company. Maybe now was the time to utilise it.

Walking away from him again, I immaturely gave him the bird over my right shoulder. No, it wasn't the time for my skin. It was never the time if I was going to be honest with myself… but I felt dirty simply thinking about using it against Logan, and that feeling made me feel like a coward. But confrontation wasn't necessarily my style to begin with, so that was the excuse I was going with. When he woke up, anyway, from the unconsciousness my mutation would undoubtedly induce, he would skewer me for all that he was worth. And I didn't particularly want to be skewered, thank you very much.

"What the fuck are you on about?" he yelled from about fifteen metres behind me, and I paused in my step. "You think I want to take you to those fucking camps? Do you think I want to know that I'm the one responsible for your fucking rape and torture? Who the fuck do you think I am?"

I turned around fully now, staring at him in shock. I hadn't expected that from him. Well, I'd expected the many fucks, as I'd noted he tended to use that word in anger, but I hadn't expected the other stuff. Logan had a conscience? Logan cared about what happened to… me?

No, no. It's guilt. He doesn't want to feel guilty. Get over yourself, Marie, you're not that important to him. You only just met for God's sake.

"If you haven't realised," he spat bitterly, "I'm a '_mutie_' too."

He was walking toward me now, slowly. I stared at his nearing figure.

"And… and fucking hell, Marie… mutants need to stick together in times like these. It's fucking everyone out for them fucking selves and you and me… we're the ones who don't want to be on either side. So maybe it's time you take your head out of your ass and see that you're not the only one in trouble, here, kid." He said the last statement softly, and it was a stark contrast to his previously harsh and loud words. I couldn't quite place Logan in a category linking him to anyone I used to know. He was completely and utterly unique and so unpredictable that I knew he would be the death of me. He was everything I despised about my life – he was uncontrollable, and I was a control freak.

So to explain why I closed the distance between us and started believing him is a little too hard. I just knew that I would never meet someone like this ever again in my entire life and the curious side of me refused to walk away. Damn it.

"I… I'm not trying to be selfish, it's just…" He was looking at me expectantly now and I didn't really know what to say, and that baffled me because I _always_ knew what to say. I avoided his eyes and looked at the dripping trees surrounding the deserted highway. "I've been in this situation before, and… well I trusted the last person and they fucked me over. So I don't really know what to do, Logan. Who's to say it won't happen again? How the hell can I trust you?" I tried to keep my voice down but by the last question I was yelling again. Eugh.

"You can't." He said simply, staring me down and making me feel small like he constantly seemed to. I looked at him helplessly and just stood there, feet soaking wet, jeans chafing against my thighs, hair windswept, cheeks flushed and hands exposed to the chill of the early spring air.

I followed him back to the car silently and as Logan started the large vehicle, I held my hands in front of the heater as it warmed itself. The hot blowing air brought back the feeling to my fingers and I sighed in relief and weariness. I didn't know how to go about this. What was I to do? Follow Logan around for months to come, help him out so we could both survive? This… this conflict, or whatever it was, wasn't going to end anytime soon, and I knew if I was on the run for the rest of my life with Logan, that that's all I would be doing – running. And that was hardly surviving at all.

I leant back into the comfortable backing of the car seat, content to let Logan drive through the now drizzling rain.

"I've been to those places before," I started, and I wasn't exactly sure what I was doing. I felt like I was vomiting words out without any sort of conscious decision to do so. But I was on a roll now and I didn't feel as if I could stop. "Twice. The first time it was on a mission," Logan gave me a glance but I ignored it. The X-Men was a story for another time. "I saw it all, and I couldn't do anything. It didn't seem as bad then, just little food and a few hateful comments. And of course, the lack of freedom. But I'd seen that before, in places that weren't mutant camps. It was the second time that did it."

Logan stayed quiet, but she knew he was curious. No one had that sort of reaction to going to the camps that hadn't seen them before. And I knew that had it been me, I would have suspected just that – that I had been in one of those camps. But I had to explain. I had to get this off my chest because I'd been alone with it for too long. It wasn't like it was a secret – I'd just had no one to tell.

"The second time I'd come in willingly. I hadn't known we were going to the camps. I'd thought we were going to a– … to a safe house." I almost choked on my own words and I hated myself for it. I was strong enough for this, I could say it. I'd said it to myself many times before. "But I was wrong. It was a trap. I was taken to one of cells underground, the highest security ones because they knew what I could do, what my skin meant to both mutants and humans. I… I couldn't escape. I tried so many times but the beatings got worse and I got weaker. Soon they stopped the experiments, saying I was an _anomaly_ and that my mutation didn't have any _background_, any _reasoning_. So I was left to rot in one of the bottom-most cells of one of the underground units."

I could see his hands whitening under the pressure on the steering wheel and was surprised at the control he was exhibiting and the fact that he hadn't broken the thing yet. I knew he was capable of it. But his anger threw me off a bit… I'd thought maybe some sympathy, a little nervousness at the chance it would happen to him, but anger? Not how I'd thought he'd react.

"One day, about two weeks into my time there, although it seemed more like two months, one guard decided to come in to..." I couldn't find the right words without sounding bitter, so I just went ahead and said it. "have fun, but they hadn't told him about my mutation. I always wondered whether he was that desperate for some that he hadn't even considered my mutation. He hadn't seemed worried at all…" I trailed off, remembering his face, and his hurried manner. I couldn't remember him humiliating me much, or even trying to make me fight him.

"Well, he was my ticket out and I touched him, ran through the open cell door and picked a lock somewhere to get my duffle and left the camp behind me. I hadn't thought I would last more than fifty metres, but by the time I came across a human settlement I think I'd run at least a kilometre." I smiled to myself, remembering the relief that had flooded through me at the sight of people that weren't in guard or prisoner uniforms.

There was only silence as I didn't know how to continue. To tell him about the trouble I'd had finding somewhere to sleep when I didn't have money? And the looks I'd received because of my weakened state and lack of belongings? When people saw you helping a mutant during these times, you became a target. So I hadn't held it against them – really, I understood. It didn't help the fact that I'd been miserable for the two weeks after my escape. At least then I'd already been captured, and under no danger of being found. I can't remember sleeping during those two weeks, but I must have because not sleeping for two weeks certainly wasn't possible. Even paranoia couldn't beat sleep deprivation.

Logan hadn't said anything and I didn't either. It must have been an hour or so until I seemed to garner any noticeable reaction from him.

"They used to call me Wolverine." He stated, and he shifted slightly, a clinking sound resonating throughout the car. I caught sight of a glinting object in the front window, and looked to his neck to see it clearly.

_WOLVERINE._

I smiled slightly, flicking my long fringe out of my eyes before pushing up the sleeve of my coat and jumper up my right forearm.

"Rogue." I said, and he looked down at the brand on my arm that said the same thing, along with my number beneath it.

We were silent. These weren't our real names. They were names that had been created for us, or by us, to represent what we were to most of the world. They were our other personalities, our survival instincts. But somehow, the disclosure of these names seemed more personal than anything else, including the giving of our real ones.

And the fact that I had just done so with Logan, and he with I, meant more to me than it should have.

We drove on.

* * *

I'm hoping this is all making sense, and that it's at a slow enough pace. Any thoughts?

P


	3. Privacy

Action, here we go.

**The Decemberists – The Mariner's Revenge Song  
**_We are two mariners,  
Our ship's sole survivors  
In this belly of a whale.  
Its ribs are ceiling beams,  
Its guts are carpeting;  
I guess we have some time to kill._

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE – Privacy**

Naturally, I hadn't thought about what I was going to do once I ran from Xavier's. It had been a typical knee-jerk reaction to leave without thinking about it at the time, and I was still just as clueless as those months ago. I'd lost count how many. All I remembered was leaving in September and everything seemed to blur from then on. Calendars weren't commonplace anymore, especially for someone like me who didn't interact with any other human, or mutant, being.

Well, except for one I suppose. Logan. Wolverine.

I turned my head to the left and just gazed at him for a bit. I liked to do that with him. We didn't talk much, and neither of us really complained about it at all. I mean, what was there to talk about? Not much. It was either our impending deaths in discussion, or our increasing differing personality traits.

I kind of surprised myself by liking him so much. I mean, he was a little grumpy most of the time; snappish, abrupt, blunt, and very, very aggressive. Kind of the opposite to little old me. I mean, I didn't consider myself the best person by any means, but I at least had tact, didn't get angry easily and was probably the definition of a submissive. At least, in theory anyway. Sometimes I shocked myself with my outlandish statements and rather bold opinions. I tried to keep it inside most of the time; I didn't want to clash with anyone.

But he was not someone I would have seen myself having anything in common with when I was Xavier's, let alone being comfortable in complete silence in some dingy red truck that was almost like my new home. But here I was, in the passenger side of Logan's dingy red truck, in companionable silence and reminiscing on the fact that I was starting to like Logan a whole lot more than I would under any other circumstance.

I had a feeling it was because he was Wolverine, and holy hell he was big and muscular and attractive and had this protective instinct that I'd witnessed over the past few days. And we didn't even really know each other, despite the fact that I'd probably call him my best friend at the moment… though the term didn't seem to quite fit what we had at the moment. Protector and protected? Father and daughter? Brother and sister? Dominant and submissive? Nothing fit, and it rattled my control freak mind because I needed to put stuff into categories – to associate things so that I was sane and my mind was ordered.

Obviously my stare was getting to be a bit too much for Logan to handle because he was fidgeting a little. Not anything too noticeable, but for some reason I picked up on it almost instantly. He was rubbing his knuckles lightly, slowly – and I knew he did that when he was uncomfortable or thinking particularly hard. I was a bit surprised he hadn't caught me out yet. He was so straight-forward that normally he didn't spare me any embarrassment.

"Kid, what is it?" he asked in a clipped tone. I visibly started, and quickly looked away, out the window into the pouring rain. It was beating down onto the car and I couldn't hear much apart from the heaters, which were struggling to provide any warmth at all, and a low rumble of the engine. I was jiggling my foot, and its tapping could be heard throughout the car.

There was the slight rustle of wind from outside to be heard as I tried to think of something to say that didn't sound at all creepy.

"I…" I struggled, and Logan wasn't helping. He was just looking at me out of the corner of his eyes, and I nervously picked at my gloves – black, woolen things that I hated but they were a necessity. I wanted to throw them out and get some leather ones, because woolen was not at all practical in this weather, but I hadn't had the chance, being on the run and all. "I was just thinking."

He grunted, though I wouldn't call it one, really. That was probably the easiest way to describe it, though. It was sort of an exhalation of breath, but one so heavy and full of unsaid words that it rumbled through his chest and came out deeper, huskier, more like a grunt than anything else. I stopped short at the thought. What was I doing, analysing a simple sound of Logan's and trying to break it down into something of depth? Dear Lord, I had more issues than I thought possible.

"You're always thinking, kid." There it was again. _Kid._ This was going to get old pretty quickly. But I suppose I didn't mind too much. I had never really liked _Marie_. "What are you thinking _about?_"

There was a pause as I thought of something to say, yet again. So I talked and talked around Logan, but there was also another issue – half the time he just left me speechless and scrambling to put a sentence together. I wanted to slap myself in embarrassment. Would this ever end?

"Well, the thing is… I-" But I never got to finish my sentence. Not because he interrupted me, or because I stopped myself, but because a freakin' tree just slammed onto the already dented bonnet. Logan was not gonna be able to leave that as it was after this. It was funny, because that was the only thought I could maintain before I was jolted forward, adrenaline already running through my veins. My skin buzzed, and suddenly I was hotter than was comfortable. I felt the urge to rip off my gloves for some reason, but ignored it. Now was not the time. As we came to a screeching halt, swerving, I realised now was _definitely _not the time. I couldn't quite find it in me to scream, but a strange strangling noise came from my throat, and I thought I heard Logan swear as he tried to take back control of the vehicle. My seatbelt dug into my chest and I knew I would have bruises to show for it in a couple of hours.

My brain felt like it was rattling around in my skull as we continued turning, albeit more slowly as time stretched on… it seemed, for an age. Suddenly, I was flung back as the back end of the truck fell partly off the road, and I felt myself flattening against the back of my seat. I saw a thick piece of dashboard break off, and as if in slow motion it collided with my forehead. My vision was slowly fading, and I fought to stay conscious.

"Logan-" I mumbled, but it was no use. I was out.

When I woke, it was to a stinging pain in my temple and aching limbs. I couldn't move my legs, but I wasn't really worried about that at the moment. I reached up with a hand to touch the point of pain on my head and came away with blood coating my fingertips. That didn't look good. I winced, trying to sit up as I was slouched down low in my seat. My forearms throbbed in disagreement but I managed to right myself in the car seat. I looked to my left, and saw Logan, taking off his seatbelt and turning toward me.

He started beating at the dashboard, denting it so that my legs were beginning to be freed. It had bent toward me, the dashboard, and it was now so fully deformed that I didn't think Logan would be able to rectify his beloved truck. Somehow, though, no matter how long he'd had it, I didn't think he'd be too upset. There was that quality to Logan… he didn't seem to care for much. He'd accepted that things came and went in life and he didn't mourn or desire them. I was almost envious.

"It's not safe here." Logan growled, beating at the dashboard more furiously than I thought he was capable of. Then again, I suppose he was capable previously of a hell of a lot more than I thought ever possible. This was obviously no exception.

I smiled tiredly, a tad confused. "What? But it was just a fallen-"

"Nothing's _just_ a fallen tree, Marie. We need to get out of here." His confidence rattled me, and I suddenly panicked. I couldn't go back to those camps. I couldn't become some sort of mutant exhibit again. Not there. Anywhere but _there_.

"I can't," I cried, lifting my head and looking around wildly.I tried to help Logan, pulling at my legs to get them out from under the dashboard. Suddenly I realised I couldn't feel much down there. "Logan, I can't go back!" I exclaimed, crying now. I was tugging my limbs relentlessly but it seemed like no use.

"Fuck, I know, I know." He grumbled, hacking away at the dashboard. With one large swipe, I was abruptly free. Despite my numbness, I was determined to leave the truck and wrenched open the door. Logan was doing the same on the other side, and I hopped down, biting the inside of my cheek in agony as my right foot jolted. The numbness was gone in a second and I was left with a stinging, excruciating pain centered on my ankle. The rain was pelting down and I was soaked through within a minute. I saw Logan pulling my duffle and his own belongings angrily from the truck, and I squinted through the rain to see if he was talking to me, because I certainly saw him mouth moving. I heard a weird splash ten feet away, behind the truck. I snapped my head towards the direction of the sound, and couldn't see much. But suddenly, as if it had appeared from nowhere, a figure came through the thick sheet of rain, dark and tall and moving ever so closer with each step. My hard grip on the truck tightened, and my knuckles were straining with the force.

"Logan," I called, almost as if it were a warning. He hadn't heard me, and was still rummaging through the truck hastily. The figure kept approaching slowly. I staggered back, still clutching the hood of the truck desperately. This couldn't be good. No figure comes out of the pouring rain like that without dishonourable intentions. If they were friendly, they would have said so, surely. I spat out the rain water running down my face in torrents, and couldn't decide what to do. I… I could use my skin. But did I want to? Did I want this creep in my head for roughly twenty-four hours?

"LOGAN!" I screamed through the thundering rain as I turned toward him, and I wasn't sure whether I was still crying or not. It was hard to tell, obviously, given the rain. I saw the recognition on his face as he saw my frightened glance to the nearing figure in front of me. He dropped our stuff, and I almost reached for them to avoid getting them soaked but realised they most likely were anyway without the aid of puddles on the ground. Logan climbed on top of the bonnet, and jumped to my side. His claws came out with a _snikt_, and he stood in front of me, menacingly staring down the figure.

I wasn't sure whether Logan did confrontations. But I just knew, somehow, that the Wolverine did. And that was bad. Very bad; because in times like this, where if you drew too much attention to yourself you might be looked into, confrontations were very bad and drew too much attention. I couldn't take them normally, but this supposed human versus mutant conflict (though it wasn't that black and white) had meant I avoided them at all costs, even if they weren't necessarily the worst thing that could happen.

So, I started to yank on Logan's arms.

"Let's go. Come on, run." I said, loud enough that he could hear me. I don't think the other person, guy… mutant, whatever they were, heard me. The rain was just too damn loud. I was relying purely on Logan's really good hearing, because over the past few days I'd noticed he heard things I didn't really want him to hear. But that was okay, because I was over that stage in my life when privacy of the utmost importance. It was war right now, and war meant privacy was pretty much non-existent. _Survival _meant privacy was non-existent.

I was pulling him back now, slowly. But he was big, and strong, and he stood his ground. I was pulling to no avail, really, given my dodgy ankle. I was desperate, though. We needed to get out of here. This confrontation was _not_ good.

"Fucking hell, Logan, we have to leave or we're _fucked_." I seethed. Yeah, I swore when I got angry. It was totally not my style normally, but I just couldn't help it. It just came out.

The Wolverine seemed to be weighing up his options. After a moment, which seemed to be fifteen minutes but was in actual fact most likely a few seconds, he grasped my upper arm and flung me, so that I was hauled awkwardly and painfully onto one of his sharp, muscular shoulders. And then he ran, collecting our bags on the way. Jesus, he was strong, because he was holding me, holding our heavy, mud-soaked, water-sodden duffles, and sprinting faster than I ever could. My stomach was getting constantly throttled, and I was winded over and over again. I struggled for breath, let alone the ability to speak, but I somehow managed over the rumbling rain.

"Where are we going?" I yelled, my voice hoarse. My hair was stuck to my face and my neck, and I was trying to avoid skin-to-skin contact with Logan. If he touched me, then he could fall unconscious and then I'd most likely get hurt and this weird stalker would capture us both and receive some massive bounty and then we'd be screwed. So it was imperative that I didn't touch Logan with my skin right now.

"The hell if I know." He panted it out, but he didn't seem to be faltering in his step. "Next town is ten miles over. We're going to have to leg it from here, kid."

He didn't mention the fact that my ankle was busted and that he would be carrying me, but I got the sense I didn't need to explain or plead my case. He knew I wouldn't be able to get on without him at this point, that I was vulnerable. And somehow, although it was comforting, it was also disconcerting. I'd just acquired this independence, had a couple of months, and then it was taken away again, just like that. I didn't want to _depend _on anyone, or _need _anyone. That wasn't me. But I guess, right now, that was all I could do.

All of a sudden, a gunshot could be heard and Logan grunted in pain. I saw the laceration on his left arm from where a bullet had skimmed it. Although it was shallow, it looked like it hurt and I winced in sympathy. But then, as if like magic, I saw the cut disappear before my eyes, as if Logan's body was on fast forward. I frowned, eyes now wide, and stared until my eyes burned. What had just happened?

We turned, and Logan was now ducking, trying to avoid cover but it was failing a bit given the fact that I was some mound on his back. The branches were scratching my legs, and whipping back into my face as we passed them. I didn't complain, because I knew as soon as I did that he would dump me on my ass with no qualms.

It was a few minutes before Logan seemed to think it safe enough to travel along the roadside. I was a bit more cautious, and kept watching behind him for any oncoming foreigners. I was trying to decide whether we were currently being hunted by humans or mutants. On the one hand, the guy who came after us was flipping _huge_. On the other hand, guns, with normal bullets and no cure injections, were being flung about and used in a way that suggested we weren't to be killed, but to be injured and incapable of fleeing. Which meant capture.

It must have been an hour, maybe a little more, before we reached anywhere that resembled civilization. I had kind of zoned out a bit, not really paying attention to anything after the first ten minutes of running. Logan seemed to be holding up well, but I didn't want to bring it up in case he made some scathing comment that would put me in a bad mood for the rest of the day. He hadn't spoken since the car, and in a way I was comforted but in another way I was seriously disturbed because not talking in a situation like this wasn't exactly the best thing. I mean, we needed to strategise, we needed to sort out where we were going, what we had, and what we needed. But apparently we didn't need to do those things because Logan wasn't interested. I felt a sense of dread creep up on me.

I was put down, and I flinched as I landed, just barely avoiding hitting my ankle against the ground. His arm was still around my waist as we neared entrance to the busy part of town. We wouldn't be accosted so close to a town, despite the locations of certain camps near country towns. But this was Pennsylvania, and as far as research proved, there were no camps in this vicinity. They could've built new ones, though. Damn. I hadn't thought of that before. Now I was getting scared.

He was pulling me along too quickly for my liking, but I didn't want to complain because I thought the pace was entirely understandable. If the roles were reversed, I would probably have been pulling him along even more quickly.

We parked ourselves outside one of the dodgier motels, and internally, I cringed at Logan's taste. One day I'd have to change that… that is, if I spent a long period of time with him at all. I really had no idea at the moment, and I couldn't believe I was thinking about this now. Focus!

He made me lean against the wall of the motel, and I watched him as he went through my duffle.

"Hey! What're you doing?" I asked, a little frustrated, through the rain. I could taste the rain, and it had a gritty taste I'd never encountered before.

"What do you _think _I'm doing, Marie?" He was annoyed now, and I blushed in response. I didn't mean to be so stupid, not really. I was just a little offended that he thought he could go through my things. Then again, privacy was privacy and I didn't have any. "We need money and at the moment we'll take everything we can get."

"But what happens after? What are we gonna do when we have nothing left?" I asked, with a patronising tone. I felt bad, kinda. But I mean, I was just worried. I didn't want to _have_ to turn myself in, if it could be helped.

"I have a plan."

Fuck this, this was ridiculous. I could feel my ire rising but I couldn't control it, and my skin started buzzing again in that way that confused me. I pushed the thoughts about skin into the back of my mind and focused on Logan's scruffy, chiseled face.

"Oh yeah? Is it just like your other plan that nearly got us killed? Or, worse, possibly captured?"

He just looked at me like I was an idiot, and I blushed after a moment of realisation. Of course. This was Logan. He didn't have plans, and when he did they were generally sketchy and short-term. I sighed, muttering an apology and just hoping he'd stay with me. Even though I wanted to deny it, I needed him.

He found some cash at the bottom of my duffle that even I didn't know I had. Combined with his meager savings, we managed to acquire a small room with only one bed. Resigned that one of us would have to sleep on the floor again, we were both in dire moods as the single employee working that night assessed our attire, lack of belongings and transportation, and my obvious ankle injury. She looked particularly worried when Logan steered me away rather aggressively. Honestly, I needed to talk to him about this – I didn't want to seem like the victim every single time. What was keeping everybody from thinking that maybe _Logan_ was the hostage, and _I_ was the criminal? Then I looked at Logan and knew why the thought would never cross their minds. It just wasn't plausible, in any lifetime, in any universe. No. Way.

"Come on." he whispered, almost tenderly – although I didn't want to give that adjective to anything Logan said to anyone. He helped me to the stairs and, after a few long minutes, decided to carry me up the stairs to our room impatiently. I hid my face into his chest to hide my embarrassment. Why? Oh, why?

Soon he had placed me on the bed, and I was a little delirious as the mattress soothed my aching back. I hadn't realised how tense I was until that moment, and I melted into the bed, relaxing fully now that the most immediate worries had disappeared. He was mulling around me, turning on lights, closing blinds, and unpacking his duffle onto the desk. Our cash was almost gone, now – I think we had about thirty dollars left – and I knew we'd have to earn soon or resort to stealing. I didn't like thieving, but sometimes it was necessary. Unfortunately, it also meant you could be caught out and therefore draw attention to yourself. Completely not what I wanted and definitely something I avoided at all costs. Hate confrontation, remember?

I looked to Logan sleepily and he searched our stuff for something which I had no idea about.

"You didn't tell me you could heal." I stated, almost in wonder. I was so tired now, my thoughts were slowing and I was becoming increasingly happy. I had this mood right before I fell asleep. It was a bit carefree, and I always felt like I was high on something. Usually, it evoked amusing comments in the presence of others, but with Logan… well, apparently it was causing me to be especially straight-forward, almost perceptive.

He continued with his searching for a moment before he turned around to look at me fully. I could only imagine what he was seeing: me, in an awkward position laying soaked in my own wrinkled clothes on top of a small double bed. I'm sure it was most charming.

"You never asked." And the way he said it, it was almost like he'd avoided telling me, like if I found out I wouldn't want to travel with him anymore. I had no clue why he would think that and decided to just stay quiet and wait for him to say something else that actually made sense.

It came to me then, that maybe I could heal myself. I hated this feeling of neediness, dependence, that came from hurting myself to the point where I was disadvantaged. If I could heal myself, I wouldn't be a burden, I wouldn't be abandoned, and everything would go back to normal – well, at least as normal as things _could _be. I looked to Logan then, slightly more awake, and contemplating whether telling him would be the best idea. I mean, I could tell him and he would refuse and I'd be cranky for a while to come. Or he could agree, but then he'd know what my mutation did, and I wasn't sure whether I was ready for that. But then again, I could keep it from him, heal myself, and try to explain why he'd been knocked out for a while. That could end badly, and he would probably never be able to trust me again… if he ever had. I sighed to myself tiredly, sick of the complicated nature of things. Sometimes I really wished I was a child and everything was so black and white and I wasn't a flipping _mutant_.

My ankle was throbbing slightly, and I inhaled deeply at a sharp pain that ran through it upon movement. I didn't know whether it was broken, or I'd torn a muscle or a ligament or what. All I knew is that it hurt and I really wouldn't be able to get proper medical attention for a long while, if ever. It seemed I'd made my decision.

"Logan, I-"

He waited, looking at me, as I decided how to go about this. I knew Logan would appreciate the truth, but saying it outright would inevitably end in me saying the wrong thing and ruining any chance of healing this God damn ankle.

"I need you to heal me."

"What?" he said immediately, and I was surprised. Didn't people normally have those dramatic pauses, as if to think about what I was really saying? Well I guess Logan knew exactly what I was saying because he was glaring at me for all he was worth. I gulped nervously.

"My mutation… I can borrow your power. You heal, and if I touch you then I can heal."

"But that's not all you can do." It wasn't a question, but I suppose it should have been, because he was looking at me as if I should explain all the details about my skin. I looked away from him. I hated talking about this. It was just really uncomfortable and always made me the centre of unwanted attention. Then again, this was just Logan. He constantly gave me negative, unwanted attention.

"My skin sucks your life force. As a mutant, it sucks your power first. It doesn't steal it, but it can copy it, take it for its own use. If I pull away in time, all you'll be left with is the feeling that you've been winded, or hit hard on the head. That's all, I swear." I sucked in a breath sharply, waiting for him to agree, hopefully. I'd just told him what my skin did, and if it was for nothing then I lost a serious advantage if he ever turned out to be untrustworthy.

"Alright."

And that was that. Simple. Agreed. Consensual. And now my mind was in the gutter and I literally had to yank it out of there.

He walked over to me and sat down heavily at my side. I realised this wasn't really the best position when he was likely to collapse, but I didn't say anything. Was I a masochist? He took my arm carefully, making sure to touch my shirt-covered flesh. Then, slowly, almost painstakingly, he pulled off my soggy woolen glove and threw it onto the floor. And without further hesitation, he covered my small, dainty hand in his own large, tanned one. I felt the pull of my skin, the way it buzzed now like it had before, and how it almost thrummed with the newly acquired mutation it was replicating. Logan looked pained, and almost as if he would topple over at any second.

I pried his hand off of my own, quickly retracting the bare one and cradling it to my heaving chest. I got a rush of memories, a sweeping sensation that left me feeling nauseous and dizzy. I breathed out raggedly, trying to digest all the new information. Experimentation, pain – lots of pain; loneliness, and most of all, anger. Anger so unbelievable I didn't think I could take it anymore–

His hand was in my hair now, slowly and softly massaging the stabbing pain of my headache away.

And suddenly, I realised, my ankle was fine. There was nothing coming from there that was worrying me – no numbness, no pain, no odd feeling that normally indicated some serious nerve damage. I smiled in thanks as I looked to Logan. He was frowning, confused, with his hair slightly mussed. I smiled wider, but he ignored me.

"You didn't mention the fact that you see some of my memories."

I'm sure my eyes bulged out of my head for a second before I laughed nervously.

"What makes you say that?" I inquired, because no one had realised I did witness memories until I told them.

"Because," he started, looking at me as if he were trying to figure me out, "I saw memories I'd never seen before."

I hadn't realised it before, but I'd just totally and completely invaded Logan's privacy. And memories he'd never seen? What, did he have amnesia or something?

I sat up slowly, and he shifted accordingly to my own position. I noticed this and factored it into my mind for later analysis as I frowned.

"What do you mean?" I asked, and the question seemed to jerk Logan back into the present because just as soon as it had come, his hand was gone from my hair and his presence missing from beside me. He was across the room and slamming the bathroom door in a second, and I sighed wearily. I sunk back down into the hard pillows and wished for a moment when things wouldn't be this way, when things wouldn't be this hard.

But, secretly, I knew – there would never be a time like that.

* * *

"No. No way, absolutely not."

"It's not a question of permission, kid. I'm telling you what's happening."

"I can't let you!" I exclaimed, gripping Logan in what must have been a painful way, but he didn't do anything but brush me off. I was a little offended, but got over it quickly. To him, I was just some little teenager that was too clingy and needy and definitely all-round too girly. I could be manly… really. I just had to prove it to Logan sometime. But not now. Now I was going to be the rational, careful female because heaven knows Logan would never be entirely rational in any situation.

"Do you want money, or not?"

Well, that silenced me. But he couldn't really expect me to sit by and watch this?

He got up from our small table at the stingy bar across the road from the temporary motel we were staying at. Obviously he _could_ expect me to sit by and watch this. Oh God, I really didn't want to. I couldn't even stand it when _I_ got hurt, let alone other people. This was going to ruin me.

"Logan," I went to say as he walked further away from me, but he didn't hear (or at least, that's what he was pretending), and I was stuck, alone and cradling a drink on the rickety table we'd first sat at an hour ago. He'd already entered this morning, he told me. It had certainly answered the question as to why he hadn't bothered to start packing or even to think about what we were going to do next.

I watched as some greasy, buff guy announced the arrival of Wolverine, the new contender, and I watched as Logan stepped into the cage, throwing his flannel shirt into one lone corner and I knew I was worried because I hadn't even taken the time to appreciate his muscular shoulders yet.

His opponent was cocky, anyone could see that. The smug smirk plastered on his face and the relaxed stance he'd taken showed everyone that. But the way his eyes flickered slightly at the sight of Logan, and the way he unclenched his fists, told another story. Logan was serious competition, and suddenly the guy sobered up almost immediately. I was proud of Logan in a weird sort of way, but stopped myself from thinking further on that. It really wasn't a good path to go down right now.

I wasn't really listening to anything in particular. In fact, I was steadfastly ignoring everything but the sounds of the fight now taking place in the cage. Logan had told me he'd done this millions of times before, so many times that he couldn't remember half of them, just that he'd won. I was slow to believe him – after all, he was a guy and guys tended to exaggerate their more manly achievements. But this was Logan, and he was so full of attitude and a calm confidence already that I doubted he would do such a thing. And I was right, because in the cage, he was amazing. The funny thing is, half the time he was losing, but it was completely intentional. Don't even ask me how I knew, I just did.

It was forty-five minutes later, and I was a little bored, because I have to say the fighting didn't really excite me like it did the other bikey kind of girls. Maybe I was just too conservative, or too Southern, but it was just… boring. Aggressive fighting kind of boring. But Logan had just won, and when I saw the big wad of money he was given, I whooped for good measure. He glanced at me for a moment before taking the money, leaving the cage, and sitting at the bar. He pulled his shirt back on, left it unbuttoned, and downed a shot. I saw him whip out his cigar and lit it quickly, breathing it in like it was oxygen. I admired the way his muscles bunched at his shoulders as he moved, and the way he demanded attention, even when trying to get himself pissed silly.

I walked up to him, demurely pulling my top down over my butt. It was way too short, something I'd worn when I was fourteen and pre-pubescent. Now… it was one of the few tops I had that didn't need to be cleaned of mud. However, it was way too provocative for my taste, and so I'd been struggling with it all night. As I sat down, I resisted the urge to cringe as I felt the material of my top nearly expose some of my back. Exposed skin – not good, not good. I grabbed Logan's flannel from his back, and removed it from his person before shrugging it on to my own frame. He looked at me for a moment before shrugging and turning back to the bar to order another drink of God knows what. He knew he couldn't get drunk, so what was the point?

Wait… where had that come from?

Oh, whatever, I give up trying to figure things out.

"Hey, little lady," I heard the voice before I saw the person, and I turned around in my bar stool to look at the guy who'd just spoken to me. He was, overall, a very average kind of guy. Not too muscular, but not scrawny. Not that tall, but not short. Clean-shaven, wearing jeans and a non-descript t-shirt, and looking at me as if I was a piece of meat. I shuddered internally and replied in a way that I hoped would repel him.

"Um, hello." I said softly, and turned to Logan. He didn't seem to be listening, though, and I was definitely going to berate him about this later. Although, I suppose, he didn't have any sort of responsibility over me, so he didn't need to save me from this situation.

"So, what are you doing 'round here?"

I tried not to cringe at the way he expected me to reveal that I was some lonely little girl waiting for a big bad man to take me to his room and _take me_. I coughed slightly as the drink I was sipping went down the wrong way. Way to laugh at my own joke.

"Look, uh… I'm not… well, that is to say, not _really_… in- … terested…" I stumbled over my words and hoped this guy wasn't going to gut me in two for being so seemingly naïve. Okay, this would be a really good time for Logan to come in and say something scathing to get this guy away from me.

"Well I'm not asking if you're interested, honey, I'm asking you what you're doing 'round here." He left his sentence hanging, as if he still expected me to answer the question. I hesitated, not sure how to go about this. How to reject, but not condemn one's self to death in the process?

"I'm-… I'm sor-"

"She's not interested."

The comment seemed to come from nowhere, but I knew that voice and I knew that a confrontation was about to take place and the inner me screamed and screamed and felt like she was going to go crazy if she went through with this.

"I didn't ask for your opinion, alright, buddy?" the average guy stated, and I didn't want him to continue, I just wanted him to shut up and stop talking and just leave, because I couldn't take this.

"I'm just sayin'," Logan shrugged, spreading his hands like he knew what was to come. I could see his knuckles whitening, and knew the claws were itching to come out. God, how had it come to this? Why did I let this go this far? No, this was not what I had planned at all. Shit.

"You don't have any sort of claim over her, so maybe you should stop talking."

I wanted to slap him. No, I wanted to slap _myself_.

"Well, yeah, I do," Logan turned toward the two of us now, shirtless, and muscles tensed. His arm snaked around my waist and pulled me to him. Suddenly, we were all standing now, and I was doing my best to stop my skin from coming into contact with Logan's. Did he have no fear at all? Jesus.

However much I may have resented Logan for doing this, there was a part of me that reveled in it, in the way he was holding me close like it was only natural. I shivered involuntarily, and then scolded myself for it. I couldn't take joy in this – it was only encouraging it. A pair of elbow-high gloves saved my hands from sucking the life out of Logan, and instead made it possible for them to rest safely on his chest, slightly curled and secretly wanting to feel him up. God, I had to stop.

"I see."

"Yeah, you do – and now you're leaving."

The average guy slinked away, sulking at the hit to his pride, and I looked up to Logan who was staring him down. I didn't really know what to do apart from stand there and act like a movable doll. I felt Logan's cheek, with stubble, graze my own, and his mouth was against my ear in what was to be seen as an intimate gesture to our audience. I swallowed heavily and tried to slow my racing heart. If he asked me later, it was the argument that got it going.

We turned, heading out the door together and across the road to the motel room we shared. The employee at the desk eyed us weirdly before going back to his paperwork. It was late, I supposed, but still.

Logan didn't let go of me until we were in our room and the door was locked behind us. I ignored the pang of disappointment that went through me at the way he so quickly extracted himself from the embrace and moved about the room as if nothing had happened.

I cleared my throat.

"How are you feeling?" My voice wavered a bit, but it was so small that I hoped he hadn't noticed it.

"Fine." He said gruffly, and I sighed. He made his way to the bathroom, and I followed in a daze, not really knowing what I was doing but hoping to apologise for whatever I'd done wrong which had caused him to react this way. I was such a pushover. I couldn't handle him being angry at me.

At the doorway he stopped suddenly, and I walked into him, my lips brushing against the middle of his back by coincidence, but I froze. Did he think I did it on purpose? If so, what would he do? Was he going to ignore me now, or abandon me? And did I really do it by accident? Oh, I really know anymore. I just stood there, waiting for him to react. But he didn't. Instead, he'd just abandoned the notion that he needed anything else and slammed the bathroom door in my face.

I exhaled shakily, leaning against the door frame. I got the feeling I'd just dodged a huge bullet.

And I had no idea why.

* * *

I'm not sure how I went with this. Anything wrong?

P


End file.
